Having received a "Cease and desist" letter from Microsoft's solicitors, I have decided to postpone my plans to take over the world. Now I know this will please some of you, outrage others and bemuse the rest, but I think it is the wisest course of inaction. I for one welcome our evil software overloads. So, on to the next challenge. I have decided to get myself into the Guinness Book of World Records!

No doubt some of you will be surprised that I am not already in there but let me say with absolute certainty that I don't think I am. I suspect that if I could just find the right wording, Princess would probably qualify, for something. Now, I don't own a copy of the respected collection of pointless behaviour, but they do have an online version which will even let you search for records that you might like to break. And there is a process for making a world-record-breaking-attempt-at-something-pointless which is laid out in simple terms for the kinds of people who go in for this sort of stuff. Anyway, now I have a plan, I guess I'd better start thinking about what I do that no one else could/would do.

Well, apparently I can stare blankly for some hours. I'm also pretty good at scratching my head in a puzzley kind of way. And my thumb twiddling leaves other thumb twiddlers in awe. To be fair, they are easily awed.

Ok, nothing comes to mind, as it so often does, and I'm left with that empty feeling you get after a big meal. Oohh. Wait. I remembered something. Its not very world-record-breakeringish but I should mention it for all you coffee-plungers out there. BEWARE the coffee plunger from HELL!!!

Once upon a Sunday morning about three days ago I was being a very good husband and making DW breakfast in bed. That alone should get me into the Guinness Book of World Records. I had cooked the bacon and eggs and served them with a nice cold glass of apple juice when tragedy struck. Actually, it didn't strike exactly so much as wait patiently for me in the kitchen. I prepared the coffee and boiled the water. Then I boiled it again to make sure it was REALLY hot. Then I poured the REALLY hot water, with the bubbles still rising, in to the PLUNGER of DOOM. Now, nowhere on the PLUNGER of DOOM does it actually say that it is the PLUNGER of DOOM, but I know it is. So I poured the REALLY hot water into the PLUNGER of DOOM, over the COFFEE from HELL (actually, I have nothing against the coffee itself - its just a bugger to clean up) and the side burst and the REALLY hot water, bubbles still rising, gushed out the side of the PLUNGER of DOOM and all over my CROTCH of SUFFERING.

I calmly placed the remains of the PLUNGER of DOOM in the SINK of COMPLETELY MISSED and noticed the burning pain in my... the burning pain. I turned casually and called to DW. In my calmness I slipped on the COFFEE from HELL and slammed my HEAD of RUBBER into the BENCH of UNYIELDING and went down like a sack of spuds. Now, in my efforts to contact DW without alarming her or the kids, I decided that bellowing like a birthing cow would be the least distressing to the children. When DW finished her bacon and came to check what was wrong, she was obviously surprised to not find a birthing cow. In fact the look on her face said "Why is he humping the floor and bellowing like a birthing cow? And he has poured the coffee all over the floor, the big idiot."

Finally I had calmed down enough to scream "BALLS OF FIRE!" and so DW said "Well, if you hadn't behaved like a birthing cow, I wouldn't have brought you this bucket of hot water." I said, "You make a good point and I really should have thought of that before. Perhaps we could continue this discussion in the cold, cold shower?" and DW said, "I'm only kidding, its cold water. Here you go." And we both laughed.

All this took about fifteen seconds. Fortunately, no serious damage was caused and DW said my concussion was barely noticeable. Princess has said countless times since, "Dad, remember when you broke the jug and poured the coffee over yourself and slipped and banged your head and fell on the ground and yelled like a big ol' sissy man? That was funny!" Little Man just grins at me like he's waiting for me to do it all again, for his entertainment, but we haven't replaced the plunger yet. And DW won't let me make the coffeee any more because I "make such a fuss".

So there you have it guys. If you don't want to have to make the coffee, all you have to do is pour boiling water in your crotch. The head banging bit is an optional extra. I should also mention that you should never, ever underestimate the protective power of a pair of boxer shorts. Also, REALLY hot water in the crotch doesn't count as a vasectomy.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Fully functioning